The Handfasters

by Helen Susan Swift

  “Indeed,” Mr Kemp said. “You are handfasted to the Earl of Cairnsmuir.”

  “But why?” I asked, completely at a loss. “If you are married to Elizabeth, why play this silly little game with me?” Although I lay in bed in his house, my temper rose at the thought that the Earl of Cairnsmuir had been playing tricks on me all this time. I have a wicked temper, my dears, as you all have had cause to find out. That day I unleashed it on Willie Kemp and I did not hold back my vicious tongue, finishing, some moments later, with: “You are not a gentleman, Mr Kemp, or Mr Cairnsmuir or whatever name you choose to adopt!”

  “I am certainly not married to Elizabeth,” Mr Kemp had survived my onslaught with patience and tolerance; now he seemed vastly amused. “Whatever made you think that?”

  “Your mother made me think that,” I pointed out, by now completely roused and ready to battle with Earls, Mrs Cairnsmuirs or the devil himself. Perhaps that was an example of my wild Highland ways, but I could no more deny myself the distinct pleasure of shouting at this man that I loved dearly, but could no longer have. “Mrs Cairnsmuir introduced her as Elizabeth Kemp.”

  It was Elizabeth herself who leaned forward and placed a capable hand on my shoulder. “I am Elizabeth Kemp,” she agreed quietly, and with all her husband's humour in her equally brown eyes. “Elizabeth Kemp Cairnsmuir. The Kemp part is our mother's maiden name. We are brother and sister, you see.”

  I saw. And once again I began to cry, more in frustration than in anything else. “So what is happening?”

  “Perhaps I had better explain,” Aunt Elspeth said, and everybody else in the room stepped back except for Willie Kemp.

  “You were sent here to find a suitable husband.” Aunt Elspeth began, “and I really believed that John Forres would be the answer. He is a handsome, eligible man and with him you would have no financial worries. Nor would you be worried about any faithlessness, for he has no real interest in women.”

  I nodded. I understood so far. John Forrest took a punch of snuff and nodded in complete amiability

  “But that night of the riot, you also met Cairnsmuir – Willie Kemp - and things became more complicated.” Aunt Elspeth raised her eyebrows to Mr Kemp, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod, as if of agreement. “You see, that night that you lay in his bed, Earl Cairnsmuir came here and told me that he had already fallen in love with you.”

  I looked at Mr Kemp, who grinned. I resolved to have further hot words with that man later, when there were no witnesses. “By why all the pretence, then?” I demanded. By now I was far too cross with the scheming devil to care about our relative social positions.

  “Let me continue,” Aunt Elspeth was smiling. “You must understand that there is a difference in social standing, and the Earl of Cairnsmuir had to be certain that you were the right woman for him.”

  “Oh, is that so?” I glanced over to Mr Kemp with my temper rising by the minute. If he thought he had heard the worst of me he was about to be made aware of his mistake. I felt the words building up within me ready to launch themselves with hooked and poisoned claws at the ego and person of that most devious of handsome men that I loved to distraction.

  “It was not William's idea, but my orders,” Lady Cairnsmuir said slowly. “He would have proposed that very night, but I insisted that he test you first.”

  “Did you indeed! You had him test me, did you? And he agreed to this charade?” I spoke as coldly as I could, although my anger was hotter than the devil's furnace on Halloween.

  Aunt Elspeth continued. “John Forres had also expressed his interest in you, so we decided to press his suit and see if you would be swayed by money and lands, for, as far as you were concerned, Willie Kemp was only a mechanic.”

  My temper did not diminish one whit. “Indeed.” I glared at Mr Kemp, resolved to speak more fully on this subject later. I was certain he would receive the roughest edge of my tongue. He had not yet properly met my wild Highland ways.

  “You, however, remained true,” Aunt Elspeth said, quietly.

  “If you will remember, I examined you quite thoroughly during your second visit to the Forres Residence.” Mrs Cairnsmuir said.

  “I remember that very well, Madam.” My temper was as hot as ever. I must have glared at everybody there, reserving my most poisonous eyes for Mr Kemp-Cairnsmuir, the devious blackguard that I was ever more resolved to scold most thoroughly as soon as we were alone together and I could enjoy the experience.

  “But, however much you sounded sincere, I needed more proof, for I hold William Kemp very dear.” Mrs Cairnsmuir continued. “Of course, he kept us all fully informed of all your plans and schemes.”

  “Of course,” I said again. My future conversation with Mr Kemp took on yet another element. I did not think that he would enjoy it in the slightest. My palm itched to slap his face or perhaps some other more prominent part of his person.

  “So he found a suitable cottage where you would be safe but where you could experience some of the hardships you might find as a mechanic's wife.”

  I nodded but said nothing, remembering the loneliness and the cold.

  “You understand why, of course? If you remained staunch in difficult circumstances, you would probably remain staunch in the good times.” Mrs Cairnsmuir smiled faintly. “You know the old saying, when poverty comes in the door, love flies out the window? Well, we were ensuring that love would remain.”

  “So you left me alone in the hills for a week?” There was no pretence in the chill warning in my voice.

  “You were never alone,” Mrs Cairnsmuir gave a small smile. “William was watching you all the time.”

  I remembered that shadowy figure in the mist, and the footprints in the snow. Both would have been Willie Kemp. My temper cooled a little, but only a little. As the poet said, I nursed my wrath to keep it warm.

  “And the final ordeal,” Mrs Cairnsmuir was solemn faced. “Would you agree to a trial marriage, the handfast? You did, although at no time did my son say that he loved you.”

  “He was testing my commitment all the time?” I decided not to have that long conversation with Mr Kemp. I remembered the humiliation of Mother Faa's probing and decided on quite another course of action.

  “I was,” Mr Kemp confirmed. “And you passed every time.”

  “Indeed,” I said, with my temper now in control of my better judgement. Now take some advice from an old woman, girls, we all have a temper, it is in our blood, but the trick is to control it. If you learn to direct your temper, you can use it, but if it controls you, then you are in danger of losing everything. Listen and learn. I learned the hard way, with some advice from a very wise friend of mine.

  “And now, Miss Lamont,” Mr Kemp struggled to get on to one knee. That may sound a strange thing to say, but in my days breeches could be so tight it was impossible for men to bend. It did make for some splendid views for us ladies, but could be awkward at times. “I can honestly ask you to be my wife. And I mean my real wife, this time and not a temporary handfasted arrangement.”

  I felt the atmosphere in that room tighten as everybody waited for my assent. Even Louise was quiet, watching me through dark eyes.

  “Could we be alone, please?” I asked. “This is an important moment in a woman's life and I must take time to discuss things fully.”

  There was a slight sigh of disappointment but everybody left quietly, one at a time. Elizabeth Kemp was last as she paused to smile encouragingly from the door. Her brother waved her away and waited expectantly by my bed.

  My slap took Mr Kemp quite by surprise, catching him on the left side of his face and nearly toppling him from his knees. As he stared at me in disbelief, I fought the urge to follow with a second. “Now Mr Kemp,” I said. “Now I will agree to marry you, but if you ever treat me like that again…”

  I never did finish that sentence, for Mr Kemp's mouth was on mine, and his hands were pulling me close. So you see, if I had allowed my temper to control me and had landed another slap,
I might never have gained that kiss, or Willie Kemp as my husband for over fifty years.

  So remember, my dears: a good man is worth taking trouble over, but you are also important in your own selves. You might well meet a man as tricky and devious and downright treacherous as Willie Kemp, but if you thole the hardships, the rewards can also be good.

  So now you know all.

  Dear reader,

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